Shake the Glitter
by em-iloveyou-d
Summary: A collection of drabbles, inspired by different things.


**01. Waking Up in Vegas**

Era-Head

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_You've gotta help me out. It's all a blur last night._

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She awoke to a pounding headache.

A bright light was bleeding through the blinds on the window directly opposite of her, causing her to roll onto her stomach and snuggle her head into her pillow. Only, upon snuggling into said pillow, she noticed it wasn't hers.

Her pillows here light green with tiny yellow and blue flowers and a touch of pink here and there. They smelled like spring flowers. They were firm and sturdy pillows to keep her head propped up and save her neck from any aches caused by an awkward sleeping position.

These pillows. They weren't hers.

It was then that she came to the conclusion that she was royally screwed.

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Haruno Sakura, amazing doctor aged twenty-five years, did not like her friends at all.

No, they couldn't be called her friends anymore.

Friends did not drag friends to a weekend in Vegas.

Nor did they _accidentally _get lost while going to the bathroom, lock their friends out of their rooms so they could have a private party, or leave their friends with an light headed inducing bill at the hotel bar.

No, friends did not do these horrible things to friends, and friends did not let friends drink away their troubles as a few hundred more dollars on an already sky rocketing bill wasn't the least of their worries.

And friends did not let friends leave the hotel with the least sober handsome man they could find.

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She was relieved to find the strappy green dress she had lazily flung on the night before hadn't left her shoulders, and even more so when nothing underneath it had gone missing.

But her calm was quickly replaced with worry when a black mess of hair, accompanied by a fancy white button up and slick black tie rolled over, meeting her bright, worried, confused, and still shocked eyes.

It only took about four seconds for him to wake up and realize something fishy was going on, and when he did, he practically catapulted himself out of bed.

His eyes were glued to hers, a mirror image of her emotions, while the two of them struggled for minutes to ask the fateful question.

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After a quick question and answer session, both of them discovered they didn't know about anything that had happened the night before.

Luckily, a few papers from the Las Vegas Elvis wedding chapel, and a slightly dulled class ring slipped a left ring finger, and a bright pink DVD revealed everything.

Sakura, of course, did not want to believe she allowed herself to get so drunk she ran off to the alter with some guy she didn't know in the slightest. The same thought seemed to strike her groom, as within half a second, his head shot to her, he locked eyes, they began to have a conversation.

"We got married last night. And I don't even know your name."

She smiled at him and shook her head before ruffling through the three-page bill for their late night wedding until she found their marriage certificate. Quickly scanning it, she both their names at the bottom.

_Uchiha Sasuke __Uchiha Sakura_

"I'm Sakura. And you're Sasuke, right?" she asked before handing him the slightly crumpled sheet of paper that intertwined their destines. Slowly, she wondered how such a flimsy sheet of paper from a six-year-old printer that was just about to run out of ink could be a symbol of a legal marriage.

"Yeah," he said after a few awkward seconds of silence rolled by. He watched as he slightly fidgeted and grunted before looking back at her, obviously nervous about the whole situation. "I've got a presentation to give today for my company, but I'll be done at four. Would you be willing to meet me for an early dinner so we can discuss how to sort this out?"

She only hesitated for a moment, slowly trying to understand what he was saying before putting together the pieces.

"Sure."

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_Shut up and put your money where your mouth is. That's what you get for waking up in Vegas._

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Don't own Naruto. Don't Katy Perry or her songs. Read and review.


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